


The Ties that Break Us

by Tattered



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Family, Gen, Prejudice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5915092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tattered/pseuds/Tattered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purity is the edict of the Malfoy family, no matter how immeasurable the price. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've read tons of DraMione fanfiction for quite some time, and decided to give this idea a shot before it escapes me. I hope you enjoy this as much as I've planned for it.
> 
> Still, HP and its characters are not mine.

Carina Lucille Malfoy was born to Narcissa Black nee Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy a few years following Voldemort’s demise in Godric’s Hollow. She was the first woman born of the pureblood family in her generation, and was the pride and joy of her mother.

However, she was born blind, and Lucius could not spare any imperfection.

* * *

 

When Carina was born, Draco was four years old.

He hated the attention his mother gave to Carina. He was used to his father’s indifference, but his mother never lost sight of him before the cherub came. Months before Carina was born, Draco would blatantly deny the swelling of his mother’s womb.

Upon her birth, Draco’s eyes never shifted from her again.

He loved the little girl dearly. Narcissa was so glad that the boy’s perception of his sister changed for the better, and had requested him to be her protector. Draco was proud of his new role -- the guardian of his pureblood princess.

* * *

 

Draco was first to notice that Carina cannot distinguish colors.

During the early months of her infancy, Carina was observed to be highly sensitive to sounds, smells, and touches. She would smile happily when she hear Draco calling her his little princess. She would giggle when Narcissa holds her close to her chest. She lived for the moments when her brother and mother would shower her attention.

But her eyes never stay still.

Child healers were baffled by Carina’s blindness, but are more inclined to wait until Carina is older to assess the extent of her affliction. They wished to consult to their Muggle counterparts, but the healer who suggested it received the brunt of Lucius’ anger.

Narcissa took their evaluation with understanding. Draco, upon knowing, innocently petted Carina’s abdomen and told her that he will be her eyes.

But Lucius never did a thing.

* * *

 

One evening, Draco was down with fever and tremors.

He shivered beneath the layers of fur his mother covered him with. Narcissa, with her tied her and unwavering poise, haphazardly covered herself with a dressing robe and stayed by Draco’s side. She wanted to bring Carina with her, but had been nearly ill with worry for her eldest and had not wanted Carina to catch her brother’s illness. Lucius was away for business and would be impossible to be summoned, no matter what reason.

He led his family with an iron hand, just like he led their family business.

Draco lay limp and pale on his bed, dreaming of rolling fields and laughter of two white-blonde children, not knowing that he will soon be on his own again.

* * *

 

Lucius snuck out of the manor like a common thief before dawn broke.

Holding Carina in his arms during the escape is a memory he will never lost. For the first time, Lucius held the child and carried her to her demise. He wanted to believe that the sacrifice of this child is justifiable to ensure the purity of his family’s blood from any affliction.

He would not fail the Malfoy line.

He left the child at the gates of a Muggle cemetery, in hopes that the pallbearer would be sensible enough to bury her in an unmarked grave.

* * *

 

Lucius never breathed a word of his actions that night. Narcissa, when Draco’s fever finally broke, was driven mad by the sudden loss of her daughter.

The lost look in Draco’s eyes never faded.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was born old, Mrs. Granger would always say.

When she was young, her quietness was thought to have rooted from being an only child. The Grangers will bring her to their practice, coaxing the little girl from her shell made of endless tomes. However, Hermione never budged.

The little brunette wanted so bad to connect with the children. She would offer them books and give them sandwiches. The parents found her very mature and accommodating. The children, however, teased her for not knowing how to play.

Hermione never did learn how to.

* * *

One of Mrs. Granger’s passion is to help children, so she signed up on a volunteer program at a local orphanage.

On her first day, Hermione came along with her because her father is away on a convention. Dressed like the proper little woman she is, Hermione charmed the facilitators of the orphanage.

Hermione walked down the intersecting hallways, fascinated by the images painted on it. She could imagine the subjects moving -- the butterfly’s wings fluttering, the little of dogs yapping at her feet, the wind blowing the kite higher and higher and higher--

She turned left to a corner, following the direction of the kite. As she neared the end of the hall, she heard whimpering noises coming from an open door.

It was not the first time Hermione saw an infant, but it is one of the most memorable.

Hermione reached her hand through the bars of the crib, petting the infant’s abdomen. She found her hair very curious; the lightness of its color seemed impossible to attain. Pinkish, plump cheeks turned paler as the infant slowly stopped her cries. And her eyes, grayer than the skies on the day she was born, directly stared at Hermione.

 _Angelic_. 

* * *

_It is sinful for a child that innocent and beautiful to be unwanted,_ the nun who was caring for the child told Hermione.

The brunette, from the moment she saw the infant, could not look away. Mrs. Granger found Hermione humming a lullaby to the blonde in the crib, a small smile on her face. Both mother and nun was enamored at the sight of the two, as if they have always been meant to meet. 

* * *

Everyone in the orphanage knew that Carina is blind.

They discovered her name upon washing the wrap that kept her warm the night she was found. The nuns surmised that it was made of expensive materials, and have deduced that her blindness must have been the cost of her birthright.

Hermione, upon learning of the child’s -- now three years of age -- problem, did not love her any less.

While still launching their practice, the Grangers decided not to adopt Carina formally, but had not deprived their support to the foundation that took care of her. Hermione continued to visit and watch over the child, reading to her the entire day.

When Carina took her first steps, it was Hermione that waited for her at the end of the steps. When Carina was tested by experts about her blindness, the Grangers stayed. Hermione, with her parents’ help, never failed to shower Carina and the other orphans the love they deserve.

It was no surprise when Carina first talked, she reached her pudgy hands to Hermione’s hand and whispered, albeit blubberingly,  _mine._


	3. Chapter 3

Narcissa’s vision clouded with rage.

Upon learning about her daughter’s demise, Narcissa whipped her wand out and barged to Lucius’ study. She was very certain that her husband has everything to do with this; for years, he expressed his dismay about having a blind child. Narcissa did her best to tolerate him, because her marriage vows tied her to him. She believed in the sanctity of wizarding pureblood traditions, and had been a perfect image of that upbringing.

But in exchange for her daughter -- this was extreme. This was _cruel_.

Lucius was waiting for her, his stormy gaze expectant and cold. Narcissa seethed, forgetting propriety and slamming her hand on the hardwood table.

“How dare you take her from me!” Narcissa screamed as her hands swept the entirety of her husband’s table. Parchment rolls, quills, and ink rolled down the floor, the latter bleeding into the carpet. 

Lucius’ intimidating form straightened, his hands anchoring him up. “Stop this insolence at once!”

“She is your daughter, your blood!”

“She has no use to me!”

“You--” Narcissa gasped, a hand covering her mouth. Her eyes stung with tears she held back. It was too much, _too much._ She was sick with worry about Draco, who, bless Merlin, is now recovering. Her eldest child never got very sick before, and only with her stubbornness was he allowed to stay at the manor to recuperate and to be visited by a healer. 

Lucius walked towards her shaking form. Narcissa moved back, conscious of the distance between her and the door. However, her husband was quick to follow her thoughts. The double doors shut, the sound reverberating against the walls of the room.

“You have no use of her as well, Cissa.” She felt his breath against her ear, his mouth lowering to her shoulder. Lucius has always been one of the most attractive and sensual men she encountered in her life, bar her Black cousins, but at present she shuddered at his closeness.

“You are a monster, Lucius,” she whispered, a tear sliding down her porcelain cheek.

Lucius smirked mockingly as his tongue reached for that lone droplet, “Let me bring you to hell, love.”

* * *

 

It was the last time Narcissa let Lucius touch her. Shortly after their encounter, he left for France for an indefinite period of time.

Draco was not ignorant of the changes in their household. Shortly after he woke up, he heard his mother summoning her things and arranging them inside Carina’s room. Several books were floating towards his sister’s room, which was across hers. Aside from the sound of her mother’s graceful work with magic, he heard 

Draco, weakened as he is, insisted to find his sister after learning about what happened. He marched down the manor’s hallways, opening doors that he could and fitting his small body through every nook and cranny it can. The house elves tried to stop him, especially the older ones, aware of how his father’s wrath could get out of hand. 

Dobby, however, is an anomaly.

He joined the Malfoy heir as he walked, mimicking his actions. Draco kept on calling for his princess with his hoarse voice, and nearly tripped down the stairs if not for Dobby’s quick work.

After what seemed like hours of walking, Draco returned to his room, defeated. He wanted to run to his mother and hold her the way he held on Carina. He could not understand what is happening and what would happen.

Little Draco cried, and only Dobby’s arms cradled him for the rest of the day.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione lugged four thick science books to the nearby table, catching her breath as she sat down.

She had always wanted to be a doctor. She would play with her dolls and use her parent's stethoscope to pretend listening to their heart beat. She would sneak old rolls of bandages from her parent's supplies, wrapping the arms of her stuffed toys. The human body fascinated her, and this was reflected by her voracious reading of various books that she could get her hands on.

Ever since meeting Carina, Hermione's heart tugged at the thought of being a pediatrician. She wanted to understand why children suffer with illnesses, even if they did not do anything wrong. She wanted to understand how Carina - the good little girl that she is - happened to be blind, forcing her to adapt to a life of darkness. If only she could figure out why.

With the Grangers' help, Carina was brought to a specialist for assessment and treatment. Without a family history, it was difficult to ascertain why Carina ended up blind. Her parents told her that maybe, Carina was born to a family who pass on blindness to their children. It saddened Hermione that Carina had to end up that way, but motivation brewed within her. She would not let Carina be limited by her blindness.

When she was at the orphanage, she would ensure that she would describe the colors to her. _Red is for heat and for love, which can be found in Valentine's Day cards Dad would give to mom. Blue is for the sky and the sea, for the cold. Yellow is for the sun and brightness; not the black you are seeing. Your hair is blonde, Mom said; it is lighter than yellow, just like you my little star. Brown is for the ground. It is the same as my hair._

Textures are another thing Hermione taught Carina. _I am holding your hand, Carina. My hand is smooth. I am placing a rock on your hand. Make a fist; you are feeling roughness. When you bathe, you feel the water. That's fluid. You touch your hair; that's smooth. My hair, don't pull on it; it's also smooth, although it looks fluffy, like the clouds._

Describing the world for the girl had been her objective. Hermione didn't want Carina to miss it all.

The dragging of the chair on the floor broke the train of Hermione's thoughts. She looked up to see a rotund child, looking nastily at her. She kept her balled hands by her side and smiled at the newcomer, although her heart thumped wildly behind her rib cage.

"May I help you?" Hermione asked politely, in hopes of masking her nervousness.

"Out of this table, girl," the boy sneered.

Hermione lifted her chin indignantly, "I sat here first. I would have liked to share this table with you if you asked properly."

The boy's fist banged loudly against the table. Several heads turned to theirs, including the librarian who was about to approach them.

"Move!" The boy yelled, pushing the table towards Hermione's direction. She toppled backward, the back of her head hitting the floor. Her vision swam in pain. "That's what you get for getting in my way, filthy muggle!"

Something twitched within Hermione as he badmouthed her.

All of a sudden, the windows of the library shattered, spraying the unsuspecting occupants of the library, but all memory was lost as Hermione's consciousness drifted.

* * *

Hermione felt the stiff blanket immobilizing her against a firm bed. Something was stuck in her arm. She heard beeping sounds on her right, which was bothersome. She opened her eyes.

"Oh dear God, she's awake," Mrs. Granger choked on her sob, reaching for Hermione and gently scooping her aching body.

"Mummy," Hermione croaked, lifting her free arm to snake on her mother's waist.

"You're alright, Hermione. I was so scared," her mother pulled back, staring at her pale features. "You've been sleeping for two days."

"What happened?" Hermione asked in confusion. Images of a boy pushing her forcefully, shattering glass, and shaking ground flashed on her mind

"Someone planted a bomb outside the library, and you were badly hurt. No one noticed who dropped the bomb. No place is safe these days, honestly!" Mrs. Granger said in exasperation. "I'm so happy you are awake. Your dad and I are worried sick, and Carina wouldn't stop crying-"

"Carina?" Hermione interrupted.

Mrs. Granger nodded, "Yes. When you were rushed to the hospital, the orphanage called us and told us that Carina wouldn't stop yelling your name while crying hysterically. No one could calm her down, so your dad fetched her. She's been with us ever since."

As if on cue, her father entered the room, a four-year-old blonde girl on tow.

"Hermione!" Mr. Granger exclaimed in relief, reaching for Hermione's hand. Her father is a man of few words, and his outburst was symbolic of his overwhelming emotions.

"My-nee, my-knee!" A small voice echoed. Mr. Granger lifted the little girl, carefully placing her by Hermione's side. Hermione's eyes blurred with unshed tears.

"Carina, you're here," Hermione placed her arm around Carina's torso.

Carina placed her hand against Hermione's cheeks. "I saw bad man push you. He hurt you!" The little girl exclaimed angrily. "Magic burst the glass, My-nee. You were sleeping. I miss you." She rested her head on Hermione's chest.

The nurse entered the room, which interrupted their moment. However, the Granger couple couldn't remove their curious gaze at the child on Hermione's chest, not could Hermione mask the look of disbelief in her face.

_How did Carina know?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a row! So that this account can catch up with The Ties posted on my tumblr account and fanfiction.net. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, do tell me what you think about the characters' characterization. It would mean a lot to me. Thank you!

_Severus,_

_I am desperate. I married a monster, and now I have become its prey. My body is subjected to his brutality, and for my family's sake, I have to save it. Draco must be safe. He is my only hope._

_Please come at Rowena's village._

_Narcissa_

* * *

Narcissa prided herself for being the stealthiest of the Black sisters. Bellatrix was too spiteful and proud, her tongue a sword she's wielded and honed for years. Andromeda – her darling black sheep – was stubborn and mistrustful, which is why she survived the torture her parents inflicted on her upon her disownment. But Narcissa – perfect pureblood then debutante – surpassed them all.

Lucius _was_ the love of her life. Narcissa knew from the moment she crossed paths with the seemingly prideful man with his piercing gaze, that their lives would never be the same. Bellatrix hated her for _stealing_ the scion of one of the oldest pureblood families. However, Lucius disliked the social gracelessness of the eldest Black daughter. Andromeda could not care less; she had always defied traditions. It was mutual disdain that solidified their relations.

Narcissa, on the other hand, left nothing to be desired.

Narcissa knew her husband loved her with whatever scraps of emotions he had spared from the Dark Lord's cause. Their courting was everything their families hoped for, and the two had fallen into each other sooner than they expected. They were their society's pride and joy, and nothing short of death would ruin the image they painted in the past few years.

Draco was the product of that love. Carina, her darling girl, was the product of Lucius' greed. He wanted an offering to the Dark Lord, a princess to rule beside a man from their leader's loins _. It would be an honor_ , Lucius said, and like the dutiful wife Narcissa was, she joined him in bed.

He blamed her for her blindness, yet both Blacks and Malfoys have history of blindness in their family. Narcissa is no fool. If she didn't marry Lucius to be the face of pureblood matriarchy, Narcissa would have accepted the scholarship bestowed upon her by St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Generations of inbreeding had increased the likelihood of the appearance of illnesses in their family, something she discovered from her studies. Draco was lucky to be a perfectly healthy boy. Carina was less fortunate, but was still perfect in her own way. Narcissa hated Lucius for taking her away.

Narcissa was aware of the dangers of being Lucius' wife, and she would stop at nothing to keep her only treasure safe.

* * *

Draco tried dressing himself in his deep blue robes with great difficulty.

His father had not been home for months, which bothered Draco. Ever since Carina's disappearance, Lucius hadn't step foot in the Manor for longer than two weeks. Words from his mother's mouth were never directed to his father's direction anymore; the older Malfoy was left spouting praises to wind with his wife's unresponsiveness. Something changed, Draco knew, but he wouldn't dare pry. Not anymore.

Draco winced as he stretched, his back aching with every move. Silver gaze melted with unshed tears that Draco stubbornly held on to. His father _never_ liked seeing him cry. Draco had to remain strong, for his mother's sake.

_"If you do not stop crying, I will lash you until you bleed dry in front of your mother!" Lucius yelled, his wrist barely moving as the whip touched Draco's back with a resounding slap._

_Draco screamed._

_The door to the study flung open, Narcissa's dressing gown billowing to her back. The locking charms Lucius placed on the door was nothing to her rage. She rushed to Draco, wandlessly muttering healing spells. Draco wrapped his arms around his mother's torso, tears wetting her silk nightgown._

_"What is the meaning of this?" She faced Lucius, the latter's mouth open in surprise. "Your own son –_ your heir, Lucius! _"_

_"You have no business here, woman," Lucius sneered. Narcissa eyed the bloody whip, her manicured nails cutting half-moons on her palms._

_"Draco is my son, and I have every right to know why you are hurting him! He is a child!"_

_"He is a child who never_ learns _his lessons! Running around with those filthy servants! He better be thankful I used a whip and not a wand! He is a weak child, Cissa, and you're making him weaker by coddling him."_

_Narcissa tried covering Draco's ears, but the child heard every word. Draco could feel his mother's frame shaking around him, barely holding her anger. With unexpected strength, Draco was carried by his mother, careful not to jostle his wounded body._

_She started walking out of the room, but on the last step turned back._

_"I am going to walk away from you right now because I have to strongest urge to kill you, but my son needs me to take of him."_

_Once she was out of the room, Narcissa ran back to their wing of the mansion, as if demons chased her._

As he finished donning his robe, Narcissa entered his room. Two large trunks floated beside her, levitated by Cassy, her personal elf.

"Mother, why are you bringing those?" Draco pointed to the trunks.

Narcissa knelt down to his level, "We are leaving, Draco. We are not safe here anymore. We must regroup."

"How about…father?" Draco winced, as if caring even a bit for his father seemed wrong.

"He…if we do not leave now, I am afraid he will hurt us even more than he did last night." Draco felt soft hands brushing his cheeks. "I can't lose you as well."

And like a warrior finally coming home, Draco wrapped his arms on his mother's neck. With a snap of Cassy's fingers, Lucius' family disappeared.

* * *

Severus had seen injuries men acquired from war, but the markings against the pale skin he's inspecting were foreign in a child's back, more so a pureblood child's skin.

Draco Malfoy rested peacefully as he lay prone on the bed Severus conjured. His mother stood a few feet back, nervously gazing at her son's injuries. It had been a few hours since mother and child escaped their mansion, and a few minutes since Severus induced sleep on the child.

"Lucius used an ancestral artefact in inflicting these wounds. The welts it left are very distinct, marks I've only seen in a book from the Malfoy library. _Pureblood Etiquette,_ if I remember it correctly. Have you seen it?" Severus explained.

Narcissa opened one of the trunks she brought, digging deep into its bottomless pit. It took her several minutes before lifting one of the older looking tomes.

"I ensured that summoning charms wouldn't work for these trunks. My husband would go on a rampage if he knew of what I brought along," Narcissa apologized for the delay. The dark-haired man nodded in understanding.

"The pain Draco is experiencing is more internal, but your spell has held it back. Still, I must prepare the potion written here. He will fully heal in a week. However, the scars cannot be removed. The whip itself is cursed," Severus pointed out.

Narcissa reached for her son's hair, brushing it back. "It won't matter. As long as he is alive."

Severus looked at her pityingly. Narcissa was a formidable woman, but to have been driven into such desperation.

"What about your welfare?"

Narcissa gazed back into the shadows where Severus hid. "Would you mind owling Andromeda for me?"

Severus could not keep the surprise from his face. Andromeda's face was burned from the tapestry at Grimmauld's place, the last time he visited. The sisters had been estranged for the years. "Are you certain?"

Narcissa only smiled beatifically.

* * *

Upon seeing the barrenness of the manor, Lucius lashed out.

Century-old vases and sculptures littered the drawing room. Portraits began running from their own paintings, seeking refuge in untouched pieces. The arrogant ones never had the chance to regret their lack of self-preservation; their canvasses were slashed and hexed.

Pops resounded at the hallway, followed by footsteps to the trashed room. Several heads bowed as Lucius turned towards them.

"Master, we are at your service," a chorus of voices followed.

Lucius sneered, his eyes narrowing.

_No wife. No children. No heir._

"Come with me to the nearest muggle city, and we shall wreak havoc in it!"

With a sweep of power, Lucius transported the group to his destination. It was a bright, early morning.

The green of _Morsmorde_ would have marred the cloudless sky beautifully.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing has a life of its own. It kept on going against what I initially thought it would be, but I'm more pleased with the path it's taking now. Anyway, enjoy!

It had taken him a while, even with magic, to locate what he was looking for. After all, the magical signature is unique and raw; it didn’t help that he wasn’t attuned to it. He was partly grateful for being knowledgeable in the Muggle world, or else he would still be looking for a needle on a hay stack.

“Are you quite certain that this is the place?” his companion asked, worry etched in his aged features.

“My sources all point to this. I’ve spoken with its director, and was able to arrange a visit.”

“Well then, make haste.”

They made an odd pair. The younger man was dressed in the darkest of coats, and his hair was blown back with every step he take. The older man was dressed in browns, but his eyes twinkled in curiosity. As they entered the establishment, children of different ages turned to their direction. The younger man zeroed into the front desk.

“Mr. Snape, I presume,” the lady across him offered a hand.

The younger man nodded. “This is my mentor, Mr. Dumbledore. We are here to discuss the matter I relayed to you in my previous missive.”

The woman stood up, nodding. “Yes. You also informed me of how sensitive this matter is, and how it must be kept under wraps. I’ve arranged for you to meet the child in one of our private rooms. This way.”

The two men followed. Severus felt out of place against the splashes of color. The woman continued, “The child has been with us for years already. She has grown attached to the child of one of our volunteers, who later on has become a benefactor. She is with the child now, actually. I would advise you to let her stay with the child, and to play as interpreter. The girl won’t disappoint, I assure you. She is a genius.”

Both men eyed the other, aware of the possible problems this arrangement may pose. The older man, Albus, simply nodded. Severus sighed inwardly; they simple had to play it by ear.

Opening one of the doors, the director of the orphanage let them in. Nothing was peculiar of the room, save for the two girls sitting by the window sill. Albus’ smile widened upon setting their eyes on them.

“Hermione, Carina, good morning. There are people here to see you,” the director greeted them. Severus was surprised by the challenging demeanor of the older girl. Coupled with her narrowed eyes, pursed lips, and voluminous hair, he was reminded of a woman he used to know.

“Hello, misters,” Hermione politely acknowledged them.

“I will leave you all to talk. Hermione, I trust that you’ll keep an eye on Carina.”

Albus was the first to approach, sitting cross-legged in front of the girls. Carina was still facing the window. Hermione vowed not to turn the child unless she’s sure of their intentions. Severus, on the other hand, remained standing behind the older man.

“I saw what you were doing when we entered the room,” Albus began. Hermione’s form stiffened slightly.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

Albus smiled in mystery. “You’ve made those toys float.”

The little girl suddenly moved as she heard the man’s observation. She turned slightly, touching Hermione’s cheek with the palms of her hand. “I told you, My-knee. You doing magic!”

Both men were shocked by the little girl’s appearance, but Albus was quick to recover. “You’re correct, Carina.”

Severus felt his head throbbing, his mouth left gaping in disbelief. The child’s features are distinctly Black, a mix of contradictions. Her childhood rendered her delicate-looking, but her bone structure promised sharpness in her features. Her coloring, on the other hand, was distinctly Malfoy -- a palette of paleness. 

“How do you know she is doing magic?” Severus voiced out.

“I don’t see colors, but I see magic. You have magic too.” Carina pointed out. “My-knee, we all have magic! It looks pretty.”

Albus took in the sight of the very promising muggleborn witch and the missing heiress of the oldest pureblood families, and his thoughts fell into place.

“Ms. Granger, would you mind if we meet your parents? We have so much to talk about.”

* * *

 

Staring at the man across the table, Andromeda Tonks took a deep breath.

Being connected to one of her estranged sisters must be the most surprising thing she experienced in her life since her daughter Nymphadora came to the world screaming bloody murder with her hair shifting colors by the snap of her fingers. In all honestly, she was initially adamant of her. They didn’t part amicably. While their mother lowered herself like a ‘filthy muggle’ -- in Druella’s words -- by throwing her belongings outside their home, Narcissa simply stood in the background. They were the closer pair compared to Bellatrix, but she did not even lift a finger to make her exit less degrading. Andromeda would have held on to that grudge, but when she finally calmed down, she understood Narcissa’s act of self-preservation. She had neither heard nor seen her since her banishment from the family, but deep in her heart, Andromeda held on to the hope that Narcissa still cared.

When they finally met, she knew Narcissa still does.

Narcissa’s act of defiance was what solidified her beliefs that her sister was in no need for redemption. She kept herself free of her husband’s hate, and was able to preserve her self-identity. Narcissa was sane enough to see the wrongs of her husband and to save her skin and her son’s.

Meeting Bartemius Crouch Sr. was the product of that faith. Andromeda and Narcissa schemed a lot during their youth, and this act of defiance is simply a new beginning.

“You haven’t spoken to me in years, Andromeda. I find it very interesting that you want to, after all this time. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Andromeda smirked at the man’s attempt to butter her up. “I’m here at my sister’s behest.”

Barty looked at her teasingly. “The insane one or the cold-blooded one?”

"You are insulting my intelligence.”

Barty guffawed, and Andromeda was reminded of what made the man very appealing in their youth. “Alright. Let’s hear it then.”

Andromeda took a thick stack of papers placed in a leather sling bag. “These are accounts of activities you’ve been tracking in the past few months, the most of which happened in a library about a month ago that, from what I heard, killed at least three civilians.”

Barty’s eyes widened at her statement. Cautiously, he opened the bag and lifted the first few pages in the stack.

“Are you certain these are authentic?”

“I’ve run the spells myself, as well as two wizards I’m familiar with who are skilled in such charms.”

Andromeda patiently waited as Barty’s eyes hungrily scoured every page of the accounts. It was the mistake of the owner to write these accounts. Andromeda would savor in his ignorance.

“If I do this, the Malfoys will pay dearly and Lucius would receive no less than five years of imprisonment. Their name would be dragged into the mud, and their companies could go bankcrupt. It could change the landscape of the Wizarding business industry. Is this what your sister wants?” Barty asked after perusing the last page he took, gazing critically at her.

From behind Andromeda, another figure appeared. “Yes Bartemius, that’s what I want.”

Side by side, with both women styled similarly, a shiver ran down Barty’s spine. The Black sisters made an intimidating front.


	7. Chapter 7

Narcissa traipsed uncharacteristically towards the Hospital Wing, her eyes warily taking in the empty beds. It was summer vacation for the young witches and wizards, yet she could not shake off the heaviness nestling on her chest. As of yesterday, her husband was incarcerated, his son innocent and clueless of the future, and she holding the reigns of their lives. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of unexpected changes; she was still in disbelief of the decision she had to make. It was a tiring feat.

From the other side of the hall, an imposing figure observed her keenly. Narcissa almost smiled at her former mentor's attempt to intimidate her.

"Punctual as always, Mrs. Malfoy."

"I aim to please, Madam Pomfrey."

The mask the matron painted melted into a smile. "It's been too long."

"Indeed, but I'm here now."

The matron ushered Narcissa deeper into the Hospital Wing, to one of the more private rooms. "I admit, I was surprised to have received a letter from your sister on your behalf. Your animosity was saddening to witness. I'm glad you've settled your differences."

Poppy motioned to the chair adjacent her. Narcissa sat, folding her hands on her legs as blue eyes gazed back at the matron . "I was raised misguided. My pride did not allow me to forgive easily, but circumstances change."

Poppy looked back knowingly. "Which brings you on my doorstep, I presume?"

Narcissa nodded, nervousness that she only felt the first time she met Abraxas Malfoy resurfacing. Poppy reached for her hands, and Narcissa silently thanked her for not flinching at their coldness.

Too son, the matron stood up, brandishing her wand. With a wave of her hand, the room began rearranging as medical supplies floated inside the room and settled on their respected places. "We are both aware of how archaic Wizarding medicine approach health problems, which would have worked to your disadvantage. Your husband has an arsenal of dark spells under his belt, and from what I read, even contraceptive charms and potions are of no use. Now, you are young, and times may change. This procedure's effect is permanent, as I replied in my letter; in combination with contraceptive charms and potions, is almost fail-safe. Are you certain of your choice?"

"I am," Narcissa answered, unwavering.

Poppy sighed, passing a hospital gown to her. "I'll give you a few moments by yourself, then we'll start."

As the matron left the room, Narcissa sighed. All for Draco's safety.

"Blimey, this rune is ridiculously complicated it looks gibberish," a body with a head full of violet hair plopped back on the bed.

Draco watched her cousin warily from the edge of his own book.

In the past few days, Draco had been transferred from the care of his godfather to his aunt's house. Severus reasoned that his present task demanded him to travel, and with his mother's permission, was sent to Andromeda Tonk's house. He missed his mother sorely; she was yet to return, and being away for a week was the longest they've been apart.

His aunt's features were obviously similar to his mother, yet her disposition is anything but hers. Andromeda shone with a quiet strength, and would shamelessly tease her husband in front of their charge. The ease with which they interact was new in Draco's eyes. He had only witnessed the ruse of his parent's relationship, and had hoped that they would have shown more intimacy like the couple who took him under their wing. Has father really loved mother?

His father's incarceration was timely, and Draco shuddered at the thought of being left with him. Their last encounter left his back sore and bleeding from punishment, and he was not keen on spending his time hiding from him in their manor.

Along with aunt and uncle, Draco was able to meet Nymphadora, their only daughter. She's charming, vivacious, and never tired; Draco was surprised he could actually keep up with her. The first time they met, she took one look at him and accosted him to his assigned room.

"Are you a snotty, little prince?" Nymphadora accusingly asked, hands on her hips as her hair turned from violet to black. Draco was too amazed he almost forgot to answer. She's the first Metamorphmagus he's met, after all. He heard his aunt calling Nymphadora with her full name, but the girl in front of him didn't budge.

Draco huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'm not scared of you."

"You have to be. I know a lot of spells, and can easily have you upside down if you start spouting nonsense like the pretentious bigot they're telling us you are," Nymphadora threatened.

"You are just sixteen," Draco pointed out. "I know you cannot do magic outside school until you're seventeen. Dobby told me."

"Dobby?" Nymphadora asked, confused.

Draco nodded, blonde hair bobbing as he sat down gracefully on the carpeted floor. "Dobby is one of our elves."

"You're friends with one of your elves?" Nymphadora's hair shifted from black to bright green, and Draco decided that it corresponded to her surprise upon his revelation.

"I always play with Dobby. Sometimes, with Cassy. Mother owns Cassy. They're good. We run at the gardens when father is not home."

Nymphadora was too baffled to say a bad thing to the boy. "There might be hope for you yet," she mumbled before opening the door to be at the receiving end of her mother's sermon.

Ever since that moment, Nymphadora stuck with Draco. She rarely went out of the house to keep the boy company, which surprised her parents. After discovering that the boy is a voracious reader, Nymphadora unearthed some of her first-year books in Hogwarts. After all, Draco is almost eleven. He'll be at Hogwarts sooner than they could blink.

"I saw you kiss that red giant yesterday. Maybe you should study instead of kiss," Draco pointed out. If not for his anticipation, the giant pillow Nymphadora threw on him would have hit him square on the face.

"Sneaky bastard. Don't tell my mother about that!"

"If you let me ride the metal can, I won't," Draco bargained.

"It's a car," Nymphadora emphasized. It still wondered her how her cousin is so fascinated by Muggle transportation, but there's always a first for the Malfoy. "I'll tell father to treat us ice cream. This heat is crazy."

Draco relaxed once the girl exited the room.

After knowing of his friendliness to house elves, Nymphadora took it upon herlsef to teach Draco all things muggle. She started with the appliances in their house (Draco would admit, the toaster scared him. His face was nearly hit by the bread the first time he tried it). She let him watch the television and pointed out all the things muggles do differently. He was still quite wary, but she showed him interested things.

He knew his father hated muggles. Hated their technology. Hated their lack of magic. Hated their independence. Hated their existence. His father aimed to raise him as a perfect pureblood prince, to be an image of their rich ancestry. He wanted Draco to grow like him.

He didn't want to. He would rather be similar to his godfather, tolerant to muggle customs and dedicated to his work. He would rather be similar to Edward, his aunt's husband, who was unassumingly kind and accepting. He would rather be like his mother, who was enduring and selfless for him.

He would rather be anything but his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts:
> 
> The procedure Narcissa was about to undergo is bilateral tubal ligation, one of the surgical methods of contraception. In this procedure, part of the fallopian tube (the isthmus) is cut and cauterized or stapled to prevent the egg cell (ovum) from meeting the sperm, causing structural alterations to prevent fertilization from happening. I am yet to read any article on contraceptive potions/charms, but I think it makes sense for those to affect the hormones.
> 
> I want Madame Pomfrey to be recognized as a perceptive and modern-oriented medical professional, hence her role in Narcissa's plans.
> 
> On Draco's part, on the other hand, I've read articles and the books themselves and saw how he's trapped in a childhood full of bad influences. With this fanfic, I rectify that. No child shall experience the pains he had to undergo, but that made him the person we all loved in the canon universe in HP. I hope I do his character justice in my own story.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading! I shall post again soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Narcissa felt out of place as she stood under the shade of a humongous tree at a local park. Andromeda offered to lend her some muggle clothes, but Narcissa insisted on transfiguring her favorite dress robes into a regal-looking muggle attire. It was the one of the many distractions she focused on prior to apparating on her current spot.

From a distance, cobalt blue eyes watched as a man in black suit held hands with a little girl, creating a contrasting image. If not for the anxiety bubbling on her throat, she would have found them amusing. The girl chatted happily, her left hand motioning in circles as the man gave her a side glance.

Narcissa could not take her eyes off the child.

Seven years to that day, she remembered bringing a cherubic newborn to the world, the purest of the children she’s seen bar her son. Wisps of white blonde hair had grown into a curtains held back by a simple black headband. As the two neared her, she balled her fists, controlling herself from reaching to the waterfall that would certainly remind her of Draco’s shorter locks. Her thin frame glowed healthily against her pale skin, a hint of pink on her cheeks. Her eyes remained hidden from view, but Narcissa was certain that they are as molten gray as her son’s.

A few steps from her spot, the two paused their conversation. The child turned her head exactly on Narcissa’s spot.

“Carina,” the name rolled softly and shakily from the woman’s lips.

The child let go of the man’s hand. With certainty on her steps, her small hands daringly reached for Narcissa’s cheeks. The woman stared as she held the smaller hands in place, gazing at the child’s patrician features.

Slowly, small lips curved into a smile. Unseeing grays peaked to meet Narcissa’s eyes.

“I know you. Sev’us told me to call you Maman,” she spoke, her soprano voice clear and loud in Narcissa’s ears.

“Oh, my darling girl.” With the grace only a debutante can muster, Narcissa engulfed the little girl in warm embrace, pressing her face against the child’s neck. The girl wrapped her arms around her neck, occasionally patting the woman’s back. “I missed you so.”

Narcissa shamelessly shed the tears she held the years they were apart. She could not believe how beautiful the child was, and how -- at that point -- the universe fell into its proper place. She lifted her face from her long-lost daughter’s neck, nodding in gratitude to Severus before burrowing herself in the essence of her child. She simply had no words.

“Where is the dragon, Maman?” Carina whispered. “I want to see the dragon!”

Narcissa pulled back, looking at her daughter’s face in confusion.

“She meant Draco,” Severus supplied.

“Dragon, how--”

“I see magic, Maman. I know you have magic because I see it, but you are always with another magic.”

It was a myth in Black family; once is every generation or two, a child is born blind to vision, but not in magic. Each person, from what she read in their family diaries, is a vessel of a magical essence. For muggles, it is very sparse; for wizards, with the purity of their blood, the vision strengthened. Other families would shy away from hereditary traits that deem their members useless; for the Blacks, it is a well-kept secret passed only on the lips of mothers during childbirth.

“Oh, darling. You are my secret for now, to keep you brother safe.”

“I want to see the dragon,” Carina insisted, shaking her head. “I want to see the dragon fire. I want to see brother!”

“Child,” Severus reprimanded. “Behave yourself.”

Narcissa raised her right hand to assuage him. “Listen to me, Carina. You will meet Draco, but not today. I’ve wanted to find you for so long so we can keep him safe. Do you understand that, darling? We have to keep your dragon safe.”

“Because of the ser..sner..snakes?”

Severus chuckled darkly. Narcissa rolled her eyes. The Dark Lord and my husband would hate to be identified with a term as undignified as a snake. Serpent, Lucius once emphasized, for viciousness and cunning.

“Yes. And for your safety as well. We will play a game with them, alright? Maman will figure it out.”

Carina nodded solemnly, the brevity of their reunion sinking in.

“I will watch over her,” Severus spoke. Narcissa looked at him in surprise. “It is the least I could do for one of my godchildren.”

“Will be okay, Maman,” Carina patted her face in reassurance.

Narcissa could only hope for their fates.

“The director told me you met your mother yesterday. I’m so happy for you, Carina,” Hermione reached for the child’s hands. Carina nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Maman’s magic is beautiful, Hermy-knee. It hugged me. I want to be with Maman, Hermy-knee. She really, really loves me,” Carina shared.

Hermione could not deny the child’s happiness. She knew Carina sometimes dreamed of them -- her family’s magic, that is. Carina would tell Hermione that she would know her mother’s magic by its purity and warmth, and her sibling’s magic by its calmness and protection. At first, Hermione didn’t believe it, but circumstances changed since her parents met with Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

“Have there been instances when your daughter did something that cannot be explained, or something seemingly extraordinary?” The bearded man asked.

Hermione curiously listened from the small opening of their library’s door. Truthfully she was afraid, because she was certain that those things happened not only to her, but to Carina as well. When she first began manipulating objects to float in Carina’s room, she never spoke a word of it. Carina however, began clapping, her unseeing eyes following the trail from which it floated.

“Does this have anything to do with her IQ?” Her mother inquired.

She could hear the amusement in the older man’s voice. “Not really, although your daughter manifested perceptiveness and, from what I can assume, unnatural intelligence. I am talking about something akin to what muggles identify as supernatural. Magic.”

“Magic?” Her mother echoed in disbelief. Hermione could imagine the gears in her mind working, trying to piece events that stood out from the norm.

However, it was her father that answered. “Yes, my daughter did.”

Her mother gasped with his confession. “What do you mean?”

“The first few times Hermione read. Remember her telling us that the images move, that’s why she wanted more picture books. I didn’t tell you because I thought it was just from the lack of sleep, but she’s not just imaginative. She would touch the drawing and it would move,” Hermione’s father explained.

“Impressive magical control for a muggleborn,” the other man commented. The man in black rarely spoke from the moment she met him. For him to have spoken must have meant something big. “I only knew of one muggleborn to manifest that degree of control before formal schooling.”

“You have a promising daughter in the wizarding world, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” The bearded man added.

“Wizarding world? Are you saying that magic is true?” Her mother reacted.

Hermione couldn’t hold her breath anymore. She pushed the door back, earning the attention of the adults.

“I have magic? Just like Carina?” Hermione voiced out in wonder. The bearded man smiled, his eyes twinkling from behind his glasses.

“You have, dear child,” the man affirmed.

Hermione could only glance in wonder at her parents, whose expressions spoke of bewilderment. 

That afternoon changed her life. She always planned to be a medical doctor, or even be a legislator in the future, but this world -- this old life -- wasn’t the only place she could belong in. She felt hopeful of her chances, and her excitement progressively became palpable with every day that passed.

“I will be leaving soon, Carina. Mr. Dumbledore and Mr. Snape gave me my letter to their school. Mr. Dumbledore snapped his fingers and the letter was in his hand in a blink. It’s amazing!” Hermione shared.

“You will go to Sev’us school?” Carina asked in wonder. Hermione’s hands tightened on hers as she nearly squealed.

The excitement in Carina’s face dissolved into seriousness, something Hermione rarely saw. The little girl scooted closer to her lap and placed the palm of her hands on Hermione’s shoulders. Brown eyes searched grays for an answer.

“Watch dragon for me, Hermy-knee.”

“What dragon, Carina?”

“Dragon is my brother, Sev’us said. We look alike, he said. Find him. Watch him so I can see him.”

Despite being used to Carina’s abilities, Hermione could not brush off the wariness she felt at her friend’s request. While her curiosity piqued about her friend’s history, she did not wish to pry. Carina had undergone so many trials at such a young age already, Mrs. Granger once said.

For once, she’s at odds about helping the redeemed orphan.

But this is Carina, and I’ve never trusted another friend more than her.

“Alright, I will find him,” Hermione promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life intervened and I had to prioritize it, so I apologize for the delay. Anyway, what do you think of Carina's backstory? Do tell me your thoughts. I'm all ears. I promise, the long wait for Dramione is about to end. :)


End file.
